


The Lazarus Directive

by Moon_Disc



Series: The Paradox Principle [2]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Language, Post-Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Disc/pseuds/Moon_Disc
Summary: A battered ship and its crew flees Gauda Prime haunted by Servalan's final threat: "No one dies any more, unless the Federation allows it."A place called Grandeer. A promise to the lost. And a possibility - does Blake live? And what will be the cost of finding out?Sequel to 'The Paradox Principle'.





	1. Prologue

**Sequel to 'The Paradox Principle'**

 

**Prologue**

 

**Federation Medical Facility, Grandeer**

**The Past**

 

His return to consciousness was brutal. 

The speed at which the condition came on was so fast it hurt. This was no gentle introduction to the day. It was a full-force chemical awakening. 

The world was too bright, too noisy, too pungent. He closed his eyes and let the sensations subside to more manageable levels. When he opened his eyes again, the situation had not improved.

He was lying on his stomach, facing a wall that had been white at one time, but now was scuffed and bore traces of brown stains. The floor itself was tattooed with irregular shapes in that same shade of faded russet. Someone had tried to return the place to its former state of sterility not too long ago. The stale smell of old cleaning chemicals polluted the air, all the worse in close proximity. 

With increasing awareness came the impression that he was not alone. He turned slightly to find himself staring at a pair of legs clad in impeccable black trousers. A sharp crease ran their length before vanishing beneath a starched black tunic. An older officer, with thinning, brown hair greying at the temples, cadaverous-faced with eyes so pale that only the red veins distinguished the blue irises from the whiteness of the sclera.

“Welcome, Blake,” said the officer. “My name is Base Commander Gault.”

The man sat up, tried to rise and failed when the world began to spin.

“Better that you remain where you are,” said Gault, consolingly. “Sonovapour tends to have unpleasant after-effects.”

“I don’t understand,” said the man. “Sonovapour? Why?”

“It was necessary to extract you and your family without incident,” said Gault. “The other passengers were told you were suffering from the Garvara virus. Highly infectious of course, no one questioned the need for our intervention.”

Desperation crept into the man’s voice. “My family. Where are they?”

“Your wife is our guest here on Grandeer. The children will be given new identities and re-educated, in order to give them the opportunity to prove their worth to the Federation.”

“Grandeer? We were en route to Ziegler 5.”

“Where you would have been executed on arrival. That is what the official record will say. A waste, I think you would agree.” 

The man shook his head. “Executed? Why? We have done nothing wrong.”

Gault consulted the chart he was holding. “You have a sibling who was arrested as a political dissident.”

“My younger brother, Roj, yes, but we haven’t spoken in years. I am a loyal Federation citizen.”

“I dare say.” Gault’s patient smile did not reach his eyes. “In our experience, however, when a family spawns one troublemaker, others soon follow. Better that such a flaw is eliminated before it spreads. In the case of the lower grades, execution is mandatory, and necessary. But here on Grandeer we require healthy specimens for medical experimentation. We select our test subjects from amongst the criminal elements of the Alpha Grades. Stronger, you understand, with measurable intelligence. They are not inclined to die as quickly as the other grades. Plentiful they might be, but weak in mind, body and spirit. Of little use for our purposes.”

“This is impossible,” the man uttered. “There’s been a mistake. I’ve never been in trouble with the authorities in my life. Please check again, my name is Rollo. Rollo Blake.”

“I am aware of your identity. There has been no mistake.”

“No, it’s my brother you want. My name is―”

“Irrelevant,” Gault interrupted. “Your official designation will suffice from now on. Accuracy is important in our work.”

“Medicine is not my field,” Rollo Blake protested. “I don’t see how I can help you.”

“Oh, your assistance will be invaluable, I have no doubt. Our current research is in the field of brain impairment, specifically limiting the damage caused by oxygen starvation over prolonged periods. You see, assistance often comes too late for many of our men injured in the field, by rebels encouraged by professional agitators like your brother. The High Council is concerned that wastage is too high. Good men left to die on distant planets whilst dissidents sit at home and fan the flames of discontent. Unconscionable, I’m sure you would agree.”

The man felt a chill rush through him when he saw the grim expression on Gault’s face. The sensation was all the more noticeable in the cloying heat of the room. Barefooted, he should have been cold. But beneath the fabric of the grey overalls he was wearing, he was sweating. Unless he was mistaken, the temperature was rising.

“This is where you can help us,” Gault continued. “It has long been known that cooler temperatures delay the process of decay. The challenge we face now is to achieve a similar result in warmer climates. Our scientists have formulated a new drug, Osirian-12, designed to preserve brain function for a limited period after death. So far, results have been encouraging, but we cannot break the eight-minute barrier. However, they assure me it can be done now certain adjustments have been made to the dosage.”

He took a step towards the door and activated the communications panel.

“Would you come in, Dr Sengar? And please inform Section-Leader Braxor that we are ready for him.”

Another voice spoke and a moment later the door opened to admit another man, clad in the white uniform of a medic, carrying a small receptacle in the same sterile colour.

“We like to simulate actual battle conditions here on Grandeer,” said Gault, watching as the newcomer took up position in silence behind him at a respectful distance. “The temperature in this room is comparable to the tropical forests of Fentrel in Sector Three. Resistance has been profound. They are a simple people with crude methods.”

As he spoke, the door reopened and black-uniformed trooper appeared. Fleshy-faced, with a scar fixing one side of his mouth into a permanent half-grin, his fingers moved restlessly across the weapon he carried.

“Ah, Braxor,” said Gault, gesturing for him to draw nearer. “There’s someone here I want you to meet. His family are traitors to the Federation.”

The man’s eyes glittered in acknowledgement.

“Braxor’s brother was a loyal Federation trooper,” Gault explained. “He died on one of the Outer Worlds when the base was attacked by rebels. Well, this patient is all yours, Braxor. Be as inventive as you like, but avoid the head if you can. We need a baseline for comparison."

“Yes, sir,” said the trooper. “My pleasure. You're not staying, sir?"

"Not today," said Gault. "We have had an influx of new patients who require processing. The doctor will supervise."

"Very good, sir."

“Take your time, Braxor. Your brother was a good man." Gault paused with his hand on the door before glancing back. “Welcome to Grandeer, Rollo Blake. Don’t disappoint us by dying too quickly. I want this to be the beginning of a long and rewarding association.”

* * * * * * *

_And of course we remember Gault from 'The Paradox Principle', and why Grandeer is not a good place to be. So guess where we'll be headed (maybe)..._

_Onwards to the present and Chapter One!_


	2. Return to Restless

**Chapter One**

 

**_The Invincible_ , Sector Nine**

**The Present**

 

**Vila**

 

“We could always eat Avon,” Soolin remarked idly. “If he doesn’t recover.”

She was saying it to annoy me. I knew that because I saw the sideways look she gave Dayna. So, it was that time of the day again, 'annoy Vila' time. At least, I hoped it was. I didn’t think she was being serious. But you can never tell with Soolin.

“We couldn’t do that,” I said. I play along with these games, if only to relieve the boredom. “There’s not enough on him to fill a decent sandwich.” 

I looked at the stale, unappetising ‘thing’ Dayna had given me. We were down to sharing whatever food was left. One third for me, one third for her, the rest for Soolin. I should have been grateful, but I wasn’t. A food supplement, they called it, the sort of thing you only eat when you’re desperate and there’s nothing left. I've filled the holes in my shoes with stuff that looked more appetising in the past. Even the pained grumbling of my stomach wasn’t enough to make me force down the mouldering pile of crumbs.

I pushed it aside, and, for a moment, it crossed my mind that Soolin had a point.

“Enough to go round,” said Dayna, a thin smirk on her face.

“There’ll be less of us to feed, of course,” Soolin mused. “Then there’s Tarrant. And you, Vila.”

“Me?!” 

I couldn’t help myself. I had a sudden vision of my head on a plate with an apple in my mouth. Just trying to annoy me, I told myself. 

My eye stole to the putrid remains of the last of our food. Even so, they were kidding. Had to be.

Mind you, you hear about these things happening. And our situation was rapidly descending into the ‘do whatever you have to do to survive’ category.

Still, eating me had to be pretty far down on their list. If I got any thinner, my clothes would be the only thing holding me up.

As it was, Gauda Prime was nine long days behind us, and retreating ever more into the distance, if not the memory, as one boring hour dragged into another. Crammed into a stolen, creaking vessel, we were short on supplies, people and patience.

Trying to make the best of a bad situation, I called it. Dayna, Soolin and I were taking turns to nurse the ship to our destination. Tarrant’s condition had deteriorated to the point where he was no longer able to stand or move unassisted. He talked, when he could, of how the world seem to shake, even when he closed his eyes. Neurological damage, creeping through its final stages. What he didn’t say, although I could see if for myself, was that his breathing was now affected. Occasionally he would gasp, as though his body had forgotten how to breathe, and he would get that panicked look in his eye that he would always try to hide. Then for a while things would be normal before it happened again.

I knew things were bad when I started to feel sorry for him. I mean, he’s Tarrant. Feeling sorry for him is something you don’t do.

And then there was Avon. Every time we gave him another dose of mutoid serum, I didn’t expect him to wake up. But he did. Every time, he was just that little bit weaker than before. The strain on his system was beginning to tell. The last time I had looked, the weeping wound on his side seemed angry and infected. For the time being, it was our secret. Avon hadn't said, but I guessed that he didn't want the others to know.

Not for much longer, though. We were all suffering. Conditions on the old ship had long since passed filthy, and the lack of water meant none of us had been able to wash in days. I was smelly, itchy and had had to resort to trimming my beard with a blunt pair of scissors to stop it trailing across the floor. 

Well, not quite the floor, but you know what I mean. 

Still, a minor irritation compared to blood poisoning. All the serum in the world wouldn’t save Avon from that. The only thing to save both him and Tarrant was the doctor we were hoping to find on Restless.

So in those few hours when Avon was lucid and had the strength to tell me what to do, we had managed to coax a little extra power out of the energy drives. As a result, our travel time had been reduced by a single, precious day. It was enough, because we were now only an hour away.

“If you don’t want to end up on the menu, Vila, you’d better go and wake Avon up,” Soolin said. “Dayna, help Tarrant up here.”

“Do I have to?” I protested. “I don’t like all that moaning and groaning and thrashing about he does when you give him that vampire stuff.”

“He said it doesn’t hurt.”

“Doesn’t hurt!” I echoed. “Of course it hurts.”

“It’s just muscle spasms, Vila,” said Dayna with that look of studied contempt she always reserves for me.

“Muscle spasms,” I muttered under my breath. “It doesn’t look like that to me.”

“Just get him, Vila,” said Soolin with impatience. “If Avon wants to land on this asteroid, he’ll have to be awake to do it, spasms or not.”

I did what I was told. With Avon and Tarrant incapacitated, it hadn’t escaped my notice that Soolin had positioned herself as the leader. Just as well really, someone had to make the decisions. If it had been left up to me, I’d have eaten what food we had days ago.

Down in the make-shift bedroom we had created in one of the empty supply rooms, Avon was in that comatose state left by the absence of stimulants. Tarrant had been right when he said Avon would crash hard when the effects of the serum wore off. The first time it had happened, there had been no warning. He had stopped speaking mid-sentence, his eyes had gone blank and he had fallen from his chair like a dead weight to the floor. We had got better at anticipating it after that, catching him before he did himself any more damage.

Right now, looking at him sprawled on the jumble of rags and torn foam cushions we had pulled from the chairs, I thought, as I always did, he was dead. I felt for a pulse, found it, and sighed. Another rough awakening lay ahead, for both of us.

I injected the last of the serum into his neck and waited. It started with a rippling tremor, as it always did. I turned him onto his side to stop him swallowing his tongue as the convulsions intensified and sat there, holding him down, until the spasms had passed and the cries had subsided into uneasy breaths.

It took longer each time, but the eyes finally opened and fixed on me. Then he blinked and looked away, shutting out the sight of me and his surroundings.

“Still here then,” he said.

“’Fraid so,” I replied.

He muttered something and tried to sit up. The grimace he pulled as he suddenly stopped did not bode well. Propped up as best he could, he tried to reach inside the stained overall, his fingers fumbling over the press studs. Unable to find a way through, he glanced over at me. I knew what was coming. It's hard undressing yourself when you've got broken bones in your hand and collarbone.

“See how bad it is,” he said.

I pulled a face, despite myself. “I’d rather not.”

“Vila.”

Avon has a way of saying my name that is part-command, part-threat.

“Oh, very well,” I said grudgingly.

He lay back as he let me conduct a cursory examination. The pad I lifted from the wound was hot, spotted with red and tinged with an oily amber stain. Even at arm’s length, I could detect a strong rancid odour. I threw it as far away from me as I could before I started to gag.

“You’ll have to work on your bedside manner,” said Avon.

“Sorry,” I said. I fought to stop my gorge rising as I pressed a new pad in place on the festering wound. I caught myself apologising again when Avon hissed through his teeth when my touch proved too rough. “It’s infected. Your temperature is raised too.”

“So I gathered.” He rolled onto his side with effort and wiped his brow. His fingers glistened with sweat. “How far are we from Restless?”

“Under an hour. You’ll make it.”

He gave me a deprecating look. It made me think that wasn’t his primary concern.

“How’s Tarrant?”

“Worse.”

“The ship?”

I didn’t know where to begin. “Food has run out. The water has been recycled so many times it doesn’t taste like water any more. Oxygen levels are nearing critical. But we’re still managing Time Distort Four. Don’t ask me how.”

Always best to end on a positive, so I’ve been told. Except Avon didn’t look impressed.

“Get me up,” he said.

We had given up the pretence he could manage on his own. We staggered out of the room, his arm around my shoulder whilst I supported him about the waist. Either my fingers were getting thinner or the flesh was withering from him because I could feel every one of his ribs. The heat he was giving off from his fever was making me sweat.

As we approached the cockpit, I caught the soft murmur of voices.

“This changes things,” Soolin was saying.

“Expected though,” said Tarrant with effort.

“Should we tell him?” Dayna replied.

“Tell me what?” said Avon, as we dragged ourselves in.

“How did you know they were talking about you?” I said to him.

“Would they be talking about you?” he retorted.

I lowered him into one of the rear seats and took up position behind him, out of everyone’s way. Tarrant in the adjacent seat seemed to be struggling for every breath. Looking at him, I thought his lips had a bluish tinge. Not good, I decided.

Soolin shrugged, pressed several buttons and the information came up at Avon’s station. I read over his shoulder. Notification of an open bounty, one million credits for the capture of Kerr Avon, alive or dead.

“Only a million,” said Avon faintly. “I’m insulted.”

“Don’t be,” said Soolin.

“Is that all?” I said indignantly. “I’m worth more than that.”

“You aren’t mentioned, Vila,” said Dayna.

“So? A bounty on our heads is nothing new,” said Avon.

“It’s who’s making the offer that concerns us,” said Tarrant.

Avon took a moment to continue reading. “Avalon,” he said finally.

I had to open my mouth before thinking. “What’s her problem?” 

“It’s a warning,” said Avon. “They don’t have those kind of resources.”

“Besides, the Federation is offering fifty million,” said Dayna. “Getting better all the time."

“Does it matter?” I said with a shrug. “There’s always been someone who’s been out to get us.”

Tarrant took a deep, gasping breath before speaking. “But never both sides at the same time, Vila. It tends to restrict the people we can rely on.” His gaze shifted to Avon. “You’re sure about Restless?”

“We have no other option,” Avon replied. “Besides, we don’t look like ourselves at the moment.”

I couldn’t argue with that. With our impressive beards and scruffy appearance, we could have passed for ruffians of the lowest order. Knowing Restless, we wouldn’t look out of place. There were probably people there who looked worse than us.

“We should pass unnoticed,” he continued, “as long as we don’t use our names.”

“Call yourself Chevron,” said Dayna, decisively. “It worked before.”

Avon managed to return her smile. “Chevron it is.”

“Speaking of Restless,” said Soolin, “I don’t suppose this physician of yours helps people out of the goodness of his heart?”

Avon switched off the screen and sat back in his chair. A thin trickle of sweat was wending its way down his cheek. “We have funds. A while ago, Vila and I made a considerable sum at Freedom City. I can access mine whenever I need it. Vila, where’s yours?”

I hesitated. Avon turned in his chair.

“I spent it,” I said quickly.

“No, you didn’t. Where is it?”

I tried not to say, but under Avon’s withering glare I was losing the battle.

“It’s safe,” I admitted. “But I was keeping it for my old age.”

“Do you think you’ll live that long?” said Tarrant.

“Can we access it?” Avon asked.

I nodded. This was painful.

“Good,” he said. “Then we have ten million at our disposal.”

“Twelve,” I corrected him. Four pairs of eyes turned in my direction. “Well, I put it in the Federation Bank, didn’t I? I haven’t touched it so the interest has compounded.”

No one said anything. They didn’t have to. I started to understand why people felt the urge to confess. The combined weight of this silent accusation was enough to make anyone feel guilty.

“Can you blame me?” I blurted out. “The Federation has to be useful for something. I was going to withdraw it if we won.”

“ _If_?” said Soolin, with that raised eyebrow of hers suggesting part-question, part-reproach.

“ _When_ ,” I said quickly. “I mean, when.”

“You know, Vila,” said Dayna, slyly, “you’re not as silly as you look.”

I felt touched. It’s not often I get praise. “Well, I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

“You certainly aren’t that,” she returned with a light laugh. 

“Hey, wait,” I said. “I didn’t mean I didn’t expect us to win, I meant—”

“We know what you meant,” Avon interrupted. “Either way, it’s largely academic, if we can’t make it to Restless.”

He was right, of course. I stared at the forward viewscreen, where in the distance the luminous gas giants of Ysopa spun on lazy orbits, ever-changing as trailing sulphurous tendrils painted the darkness with splashes of yellow and gold. Batted between them by alternating forces, the asteroid known as Restless threaded an uneasy path, attended by an accumulation of debris and broken ships following in its wake. A velocity comparable to Standard by Eleven was needed to land on Restless. Get it wrong and it was one of those mistakes you wouldn’t have to live with for long.

“How did you did you manage it before?” asked Soolin.

“Teleport,” said Avon. “We had the _Liberator_. This time we’re going to have to land. Tarrant?”

His gaze flickered in Avon’s direction as he slowly turned his head. “You’re asking me? I can’t move, let alone fly this ship.”

“You’re the best pilot we’ve got.”

“My track record would suggest otherwise.”

“Very well.” Avon regarded him gravely before looking away. “We cannot match the asteroid’s speed. Therefore, our only option is to intercept it. We fly straight at it, head on.”

Tarrant made a noise in the back of his throat. 

“You’ve got something to say?” said Avon harshly. “No? Then let me concentrate. Dayna, set an intercept course. Shut down all auxiliary systems and divert power from the force wall to the main drive. Before we make contact with the asteroid, we use the rear thrusters to slow our speed.”

“You’re sure about this?” said Dayna, uncertainly. “Will the ship survive the impact without the force wall?”

“Tarrant?” said Avon.

Slowly, painfully, he managed a slight sideways movement of his head.

“Then your best suggestion.”

Tarrant swallowed. “A controlled descent onto the asteroid and use the force wall to deflect the impact.” He struggled to take a breath. “But you knew that.”

Avon nodded. “I thought it would sound better coming from you.”

“And you were sure I would play along.”

“Well now, having got this far, it would have been a shame to ruin our run of good luck.” Avon half turned to me. “Vila, find yourself a seat somewhere else and strap yourself in.”

“Now, wait a minute,” I said, feeling offended. Avon was trying to get rid of me, and after all I had done for him. “I knew my way around a flight deck while this lot were still twinkles in the sky.”

“Then it’s time to let someone else take a turn. Sit down and shut up. Unless you want to crash standing up."

I did what I was told. Crash - it's a word I've never liked. Even the sound of it is nasty. Worse when you know it's going to happen and you're waiting for it. Like knowing when you catch that slight change in the hum of the engines and you get that sinking feeling as you plunge down onto a piece of rock hurtling through space that doesn't care whether you live or die. And then the impact, when your ears are deafened by the sound of metal thudding and scraping against an unforgiving surface and the harness straps are cutting into your neck when you're lifted up out of your seat and the world starts tumbling before your eyes. And then comes the explosions, and bits of sharp debris coming at you from every direction, and the bulkhead wall beside you lets out a metallic shriek as it bends inwards to meet you. And then you stop moving, and you can't stop coughing because of the smoke and the only sound you hear is the crackling of broken systems and your own breathing. No, I've never liked crashing.

Then, when my brain had unscrambled itself, a light on the panel beside the door began to flash.

"Vila," came Avon's voice through the communicator. "Are you alive?"

I unstrapped the harness and, on legs that wouldn't stop shaking, made it over to the panel. A spark flew and a jolt of electricity ran down my arm when I pressed the button. "I'm not sure yet," I said. "You?"

"I'll let you know." From Avon's tone of voice, I could imagine the look on his face. "Come up and join us as soon as you can. We need to make plans."

Welcome back to Restless, I thought glumly. Down we most certainly were. Safe was another matter.


	3. Recovery

**Chapter Two**

 

**Restless, Sector Nine**

**The Present**

 

**Tarrant**

 

“Is this really necessary?”

I had to say something, tact not being one of Avon’s virtues. Like now, when he had Professor Forrid up against the wall, his hand around his throat. Given that the man had spent several hours restoring us to something approaching our previous state of health, throttling him for his efforts seemed ungrateful.

As usual, Avon ignored me. His fingers pressed tighter. 

“What did you tell him?” he was saying.

The old man’s face was growing increasingly red. His eyes were bulging. “The truth, he wanted to know!”

I had walked into this conversation late. Walked being the operative word. Considering how I had been carried in here, it was an improvement. I had feeling again and the ability to move, and the numbness which had followed searing pain had faded to little more than an unpleasant memory. Not gone though. I was aware of it still, in the faintest tingle in the very tip of my fingers, lurking there in the background, waiting for an opportunity to reassert itself. Treatable, the doctor had said. I noticed he hadn’t mentioned a cure. I had meant to ask him about that.

And now here was Avon, choking the life out of the man. No wonder we were running short of allies.

“What was the ‘truth’?” Avon demanded.

His captive struggled for breath. “Brain damage. Caused by the indoctrination drugs. Slowly getting worse. His condition was terminal.”

“And you told him this?”

“I had to. He wanted to know.”

Avon released his grip and the old man breathed again. 

“What else did you tell him?” Avon asked. 

He hadn’t acknowledged me. Half-turned, his attention was focused on the hand that had been on the verge of crushing the man’s windpipe. From the way he was flexing his fingers, something was troubling him. The consequence of leaving broken bones too long without attention. The late Dr Velz had done what she could for him back on Gauda Prime, but Avon hadn’t helped himself over the past nine days by pressing on where others would have given themselves a chance to heal. Even here on Restless, he had continued to be stubborn. I had heard the doctor warning him to expect some loss of movement without the proper treatment. Breaking and resetting the bones had been his advice. No time, Avon had said.

I hadn’t given it much thought at the time. My concern had been for myself and the hope that the primitive regeneration unit into which I had been placed wasn’t about to explode with me in it. Looking back, when we had nowhere particular to be and Restless was as safe as anywhere, I was starting to question Avon’s urgency.

Time for that later, I decided. 

Forrid, as thin and bent as a broken tree, wheezed and rubbed his bruised neck. “He asked me why I was here.”

“Hiding from the Federation.”

“Yes.” He paused. “Aren’t we all?”

An unwise choice of words. If the man thought he was about to get an advantage over us, he was mistaken. Avon forgot his preoccupation and turned on him, eyes blazing. Forrid edged away.

“We heard the news about Blake,” he ventured.

“That could be inconvenient for you,” Avon responded.

Forrid gave an apologetic shrug. “Information is a commodity, like anything else. Not that I can do much with it out here.”

“Be careful, old man.”

“Or what?” He was growing bolder, reckless even. “You’ll kill me? Oh, you’ll be doing me a favour, believe me. The Federation is coming, so everyone tells me. They’re all leaving. That’s all we get on Restless these days, people on the move. They tell me now is the time to run, but where will I go? There’s nowhere safe for me.”

“Information could buy that safety.”

Forrid let out a rueful snort. “So could fifty million credits.” He caught Avon’s eye and a faint smile touched his lips. “Yes, we’ve heard that too, my friend. Don’t worry, I’m past temptation. In my younger days, I might have been able to do such an amount justice, but these days I’m just a humble physician. A place to practice my skills and interesting people to meet. What more do I need at my age?”

Avon gave it due consideration. “A way out?”

Forrid shook his head. “I have that. You see, I know what they have planned for me. Don’t let this grey hair fool you. They will make use of anyone available.” He hesitated for a moment to wet his lips. “Did he tell you about Grandeer?”

“Yes,” Avon replied. “A place where they kill people.”

“And bring them back to life.”

“So I’ve heard. Where is it?”

“Your friend asked me the same question,” said Forrid. “Somewhere on the edge of Sector Seven. More than that, I don’t know. I’ve never known.”

“Who would?” Avon shot back.

Forrid raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I swear, I do not know. I’ve never heard of anyone who escaped from there. No one leaves Grandeer.”

“What of the scientists, the technicians, the administrators? There must be a base commander.”

“Possibly. Probably. I don’t know!” The old man was becoming flustered. “Forgive me, I cannot answer your questions. Why does it matter now?”

Avon ignored him and instead turned to me. “Tarrant, how are you feeling?”

“Better than I was,” I replied.

“For the time being,” said Forrid. He quailed when Avon glared at him. “It was possible to reverse the symptoms, but the initial damage caused by the stun remains. The Federation might have a devised a cure by now, but my equipment is dated, as you can see. I’m sorry, young man. You will need neural stabilisers to prevent another deterioration in your condition.”

I had suspected as much, but I can’t pretend this was what I wanted to hear. I tried not to let it show.

“You did what you could,” I said.

“Do you have these neural stabilisers?” Avon demanded.

“A limited supply.” Forrid cleared his throat. “Obtained through unofficial channels, naturally.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Avon’s mouth. “Naturally. How limited?”

“Six months.”

“We’ll take them all,” said Avon. “Make it quick, Professor. It’s time we left.”

Quick was a matter of minutes. Forrid was keen to be rid of us and sent us on our way with our supplies and new clothes for good measure. Forrid had named his price and Avon had paid him without question. I appreciated the gesture. It was his motives I was questioning.

On the way to the landing silo, in a low corridor lit by intermittent yellow flickering lights, I caught him by the arm and brought him to a halt.

“Avon, what’s going on?”

“We don’t have time for this,” he had said gruffly, pulling himself free.

“Would you rather we discussed it in front of the others?”

In the half light, the gloom emphasised the deep hollows of his cheeks and cast his eyes into deep shadows. He looked haggard, and not just from our recent deprivations. He probably thought the same about me.

“I get the impression you’ve made plans, Avon,” I said. “Plans that don’t include the rest of us.”

“What if I have?”

“Don’t you think we have a right to know?”

“Not if they don’t involve you.”

I had my answer. “Is this where you tell me you’re leaving?”

“Something like that. What I have to do will be easier if I am alone.”

“Spare me your usual lecture on your self-sufficiency. You wouldn’t be alive today without us.”

“Do you expect me to be grateful?”

I considered whether he meant it. If he thought using shock tactics would deter me, then we could both play at that game.

“It’s Blake again, isn’t it?” I thought I caught the sound of a breathy laugh. “The man’s dead, Avon.”

He turned on me. “Vila did not see a body.”

“When I see a man with his stomach half blown away, I tend to find it convincing.”

“You heard Servalan. What do you think?”

“I think this is Terminal all over again. I think you want to be sure you didn’t make a mistake.” I saw a flicker of emotion cross his face, the first I’d seen in days. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you did. But going after him would be a mistake. Servalan has already got what she wanted – Orac. Then she waves some vague reference to Blake in front of you and you go running, right into the arms of the Federation. Except this time, you might not be so fortunate.”

Avon had gone back to flexing his hand again. “Is that what I am?”

“Fortunate to have us. We didn’t drag you off Gauda Prime to have you throw your life away chasing a ghost. I assume Forrid was talking about Blake.”

Avon managed a half-hearted nod.

“Why is Grandeer important?”

He drew in a long breath that caused his shoulders to visibly heave and fall. “The last time we were here,” Avon said, “Blake had been having problems. When he returned to the _Liberator_ , Grandeer was on his mind. From what we know, it is a medical research facility. They have a policy of using Alpha Grade prisoners as test subjects. Blake was... _concerned_ for the fate of his family. He wanted us to find it.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t,” Avon corrected me. “We had a rare moment of agreement on that point. Going to Grandeer is suicide.”

“So what has changed your mind?”

I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“Blake.” Softly-spoken, and yet full of conviction. “If he is dead, then there’s no more anyone can do for him. But if he was revived and taken to Grandeer... would you leave anyone in a place like that?”

“Probably not.”

“Well then.”

“But not at the cost of my own life,” I said. “This medicine, giving up your credits – you aren’t planning on coming back, are you, Avon?”

I held his gaze with a firm, level stare, defying him to deny it.

Avon relented. “Given what we know, it would suggest that the odds are not in my favour. And you’re right, Tarrant, I’m not planning on coming with you. Take whatever ship the others have found and leave. I’ll remain on Restless and find my own way to Grandeer. If you come with me, you will die.”

With that, he started away. When Avon makes up his mind, it would take a flotilla of Federation pursuits ships to sway him. That, or a well-placed appeal to reason.

“Did it occur to you that Blake was telling the truth when he said he was waiting for you?”

It stopped him in his tracks. “He was,” he said slowly, his back still towards me. “We both knew we would end up on Gauda Prime one day. It was... inevitable.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I had the strong impression he was smiling when he said it.

“If he was expecting you, Avon, then he could have set it up, exactly as he told you.”

He wasn’t going to like what I had to say, but it needed to be said.

“Blood is thicker than water, after all. Exchange you for information about his family, about Grandeer. Only the plan went wrong. You killed Blake and we escaped. So Servalan moves to the next best thing, convincing you that Blake is still alive.”

It took a long time for Avon to respond. I couldn’t vouch for the direction of his thoughts. When he turned back to me, the mask had come back down. I hoped I was making an impression on him, for his sake at least.

“Servalan is resourceful,” I said. “She makes the best of a bad situation.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he retorted.

I was getting tired of the worn jibes Avon employed whenever he thought he could gain an advantage. Not letting me forget what had happened on Virn, however, could work both ways.

“People act differently when they think they have nothing to lose,” I said, “and yes, Avon, you can take my word for it. If Forrid was right, then Blake was dying. Let’s be generous and say he hoped you would find Grandeer where he failed.”

“That had occurred to me,” Avon finally said.

I sighed out of frustration with the man. One way or another, he was going to Grandeer. There had to easier ways of doing it than sitting on this rock, waiting for someone to inform the Federation of his whereabouts. I wasn’t convinced he was ready to die, even if he thought he was.

“Come with us,” I urged. “We’ll find the location, if this place does exist, and then decide what to do. If you still want to go alone, we won’t stop you.”

He looked as though he was wavering. Time to use his own arguments against him.

“You owe us, Avon, after what happened on Gauda Prime. It’s time for _us_ to call in the debt.”

The eyes that fixed upon me were cold and hard, unreadable. “And now you expect me to trust you?”

“Why not? We trusted you.”

I had picked my words carefully. Past tense, implying something gone that had to be won again. Despite all that had happened, he still wasn’t being honest. Restless had been no mere chance; he had brought us here to find out about Blake. It had been convenient that the doctor and his source of information had been one and the same.

If it hurt, Avon didn’t show it. He had had enough practice to be used to it by now. It did, at least, have the desired effect.

“Very well,” he said slowly. “We find Grandeer. After that, the decision is mine.”

“Agreed. A pity we can’t ask Orac for its location.”

“Blake did. Orac didn’t know. It’s possible that they operate a closed system.”

“A XX Security Code? Makes you wonder what they have to hide.”

“Plenty, I should imagine. Come on, if we’re going.”

With our tentative truce in place, I set off after him. “Do you think they’ve found us a ship?”

We had left Soolin, Dayna and Vila with the instruction they were to locate a suitable vessel. Steal it, if possible, Avon had said, buy it if necessary. I could trust Soolin and Dayna to make a sensible choice from what was available; if it had been left up to Vila, we would be leaving Restless in a pleasure craft.

There was considerable activity in the landing silo, enough to let us pass unnoticed. A woman, inebriated and over-friendly, stepped in our path, only to think better of it when she saw Avon’s forbidding countenance. She tried an appeal to me, offering whatever she had to get her off the asteroid. I had to disappoint her. With her curses retreating in the distance, we continued in search of the others.

When we did find them, I can’t pretend I was impressed. The three of them were clustered around the landing ramp of a V-9 Pleasure Hopper, of the type known throughout the Twelve Sectors as ‘floating brothels’. Squat and toad-like, they had a manoeuvrability to match, speed and defence not being one of the primary concerns of its passengers. This particular craft looked space-worn and overdue for retirement.

I exchanged glances with Avon. The beard did nothing to conceal the muscle twitching in his jaw.

Vila was the first to see us and he promptly came bounding over. I said nothing, but I noted he had ignored Avon’s stricture about changing our ragged appearances. Clean clothes and a shave had made him more recognisable than ever. 

“There you are,” he said with all the exuberance of a child with a new toy. He gave us a cursory examination. “You look better.”

“We are,” said Avon. “What’s this?”

Vila beamed. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh, come on, Avon, give it a fair chance. You haven’t seen inside yet.”

“It does have certain advantages,” said Soolin, coming over to join us. “Appearances are deceptive. Its last owner made modifications.”

“Hyperdrive with a safety maximum of Time Distort 10,” Dayna explained. “Plasma cannons, detectors – all non-standard.”

“Probably voided the manufacturer’s warranty,” said Vila.

“That sounds promising,” said Avon. “How much did it cost?”

Soolin smiled. “Nothing. Oh, we had reached an agreement with the man, but then he wanted something extra. Well, companions, actually. We changed his mind.”

“You killed him.”

She shook her head. “He’s resting. We weren’t entirely heartless, Avon. We did leave him the wreck of the _Invincible_. He should get something for it as scrap.” She pursed her lips. “There is, however, a problem. Come with me.”

We followed her up the ramp into the heart of the ship. It was better than I had expected. Individual cabins, communal rooms, a cargo hold and a functioning forward command centre with space for two pilots. The usual fur, velvet padding and pleasure pools had been stripped away in favour of a plain silver-grey interior, with only the muted light remaining as an indication of its former use.

“Apparently the modifications were made by space pirates, who wanted an unassuming vessel to conduct their ‘business’,” said Dayna. “That should work for us too.”

“Ugly little vessel,” said Vila. “No one will give us a second glance. Mind you,” he added, “they didn’t change everything. Avon, Tarrant, meet our new flight computer. Aura, are you there?”

“Hi, Vila honey,” came a sultry female voice. “What can I do for you, gorgeous?”

“That’s going to get annoying very quickly,” muttered Soolin.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Vila. “Give the girl credit for having taste.”

Dayna gave him a sideways glance. “She can’t see you, Vila.”

“Aura,” said Avon, “we need escape velocity and trajectory for take-off from Restless. I assume you are capable of such calculations.”

“Sure, handsome. No trouble at all.”

“The name is Avon.”

“Sure, handsome Avon,” said Aura.

Dayna chuckled. Soolin looked less impressed.

“Tell me you can do something about that, Avon,” said she.

“Aura, drop the epithets unless you want your capacitors replaced,” said Avon. 

“Sure... Avon,” said the computer. “Escape velocity calculated.”

“Then let’s get out of here. Tarrant, it’s all yours.”


	4. Adversary

**Chapter Three**

 

 **Two Hours from Restless, Sector Nine**

**The Present**

 

**Vila**

 

“And what does this button do?” I asked.

“Try it, sweetie-pie, and see for yourself.”

I liked Aura. She did wonders for my self-esteem. Despite Avon’s threat of electronic disembowelment if the endearments continued, I had made my own little pact with her. When we were alone, as we were now, she could call me what she liked. Avon wouldn’t have approved, nor Soolin for that matter, but they were off picking cabins and sorting through the ship’s supplies, so their opinion didn’t matter.

I had been left on watch, which suited me. Just me and Aura. We were getting on well.

“Go on, honey, it won’t bite,” Aura urged.

Unlike Zen or Slave, Aura had no visual reference point. She existed as part of the ship, a voice in the air, at once both remote and all around me at the same time. I liked to imagine her drifting about behind me, hands resting on my shoulders, breathing in my ear. Even the sound of her voice conjured up magnificent images in my mind.

I pressed the glowing button. Soft music with a gentle throbbing beat began to play. A tingle ran down my spine. It felt strangely pleasing.

“Is that nice, my darling?” said Aura.

“Very nice,” I said with a sigh of satisfaction. I put my feet up on the console and gazed out at the view of a distant nebula cradled in the heart of star-flung galaxy. “I could get used to this.”

Nothing lasts forever. A few minutes would have been enough. I didn’t even get that.

Avon appeared on the flight deck, his expression set as though carved from stone. “Turn that noise off,” he said.

“As you wish, Avon,” said Aura.

The music promptly died away.

“Very high-handed, if you ask me,” I grumbled. “I was enjoying that.”

The look of withering contempt Avon gave me was reassuringly familiar. “I’m sure you did, Vila. It’s subliminal stimulation music, intended for the patrons of this wandering bordello.” He looked away. “Aura, there is a fault on the main detectors. Why were we not informed?”

“The fault light is on, Avon,” said Aura.

“So it is. Vila, you were on watch.”

“I can’t do everything!” I protested. “Do this, do that. I’m only human, you know.”

“We are aware of that. It’s one of your less appealing qualities.”

I glanced up at him. He looked better for a wash and a shave. Add to that decent clothes, black of course, from the pirates’ stores and he was more like the old Avon. But he was doing that thing with his fingers again, open, close, open, close. Ever since he had returned from Restless, I’d noticed him doing it. I’d noticed Tarrant noticing it too.

“You all right now?” I asked.

Avon’s attention came back to me. “Good enough.”

“The doctor fix you up?”

“Why?”

“Oh, I was wondering why you didn’t repair the detectors yourself instead of coming up here and shouting at me.” 

He had no answer to that. Or perhaps it was just me he was ignoring.

“Where are we heading?” I ventured.

“Sector Seven.”

I struggled to remember where I had heard that before. “Isn’t that where Blake said Grandeer was?”

“It’s a large area to cover.”

Fair enough, I thought. “You’ve made up your mind to go after him then?” I said. “Have you told the others?”

“Tarrant knows. He overheard me interrogating Forrid.”

“He’s going along with it?”

Avon nodded. “For now. He doesn’t like it.”

“ _I_ don’t like it,” I said. “I don’t fancy ending up in a test tube.”

“You won’t,” said Avon. “You won’t be coming with me.”

“We have to find it first,” I reminded him. “Any ideas how?”

“No,” came his honest answer. “But someone knows. You can’t hide a place like that for long without people becoming suspicious.”

He had a point. On the other hand, if it was that easy, Grandeer would have been found before now. I could have spoken up, but Avon had that sense of suppressed urgency about him that made me realise I would be wasting my time.

“If you are going to Grandeer,” I said, getting up, “it might have been wise to let that doctor mend your hand properly.”

Instinctively, Avon glanced down at it, once again flexing his fingers, testing their limits. “Cramps,” he said dismissively. “It’s nothing, an odd feeling, that’s all. Besides, there was no time.”

“In a hurry to get yourself killed, are you?” I saw the look he gave me, both warning and simmering disdain wrapped up in one. Odd, for once, it had no effect on me, probably because we both knew I was right. “Come on, let me give you a hand with those detectors. No pun intended.”

I called Dayna on the communicator to come up and take over the watch. Instead of one, however, we got all three.

“The ship isn’t in bad shape, all things considering,” Tarrant said. “It will get us where we need to go.”

“And where’s that?” asked Soolin.

“Out of the Federation’s way,” he replied. “Better if we keep on the move. By the way, Avon, what are we calling ourselves, should anyone ask?”

“Doesn’t the ship already have a name?” I said.

Tarrant gave a slight chuckle. “Yes, but you’re too young to know what it means, Vila.”

“In that case, _Libra_.”

I had been giving it some thought, so the name came naturally to mind.

Dayna glanced at me quizzically. “Why _Libra_?”

I shrugged. “Well, _Libra_ is like _Scorpio_ , the same sort of thing, I mean, and it sounds a bit like _Liberator_.”

For once, my suggestion did not meet with ridicule. It’s rather unnerving when that happens.

“I like it,” Dayna said, smiling. “I say we go with _Libra_.”

“If you’ve finished picking names, the main detectors are out,” said Avon with impatience. “Keep watch, Tarrant. We don’t want anything creeping up on us.”

No sooner had he said it than the ship staggered and lurched, throwing me back into the forward seating. A plasma bolt impact to the stern, a direct hit. The ship shuddered again as it took the brunt of another, more powerful hit this time. With every alarm blaring, a panel suddenly exploded on the main console, showering the flight deck in a spray of sparks. A bolt sprung from buckled metal above, embedding itself with force in the back of my seat. Another few inches and it would have gone clean through my head.

“What the hell?!” swore Avon, as he picked himself up off the floor.

“Damage to the rear boosters,” said Tarrant. He pushed me out of the way and consulted the readouts. “Another direct hit like that and we won’t be able to manoeuvre. Aura, arm the plasma cannons.”

“Message coming in,” said Dayna.

“Let’s see what they want.” Avon activated the communicator. “This is the _Libra_. You’ve got our attention.”

“I hope so, Avon.”

I gasped. I knew that voice. She had been one of the best pilots I had ever known. From what I had heard, she was dead. Mind you, I’ve heard that about a lot people, so I never know what to believe any more.

“Jenna!” I said in amazement.“But why is she shooting at us?”

“How many reasons would you like?” Soolin retorted.

“Lower your weapons,” came Jenna’s voice through the communicator. “I’ve got no argument with your crew. I’ll give them five minutes to get off the ship. But you, Avon, I’m going to kill you for what you did to Blake!”

“She doesn’t sound happy,” I remarked.

“Shut up, Vila!” Avon snapped. “Tarrant, do as she says.”

“Now wait a minute,” he began to say.

“She can outmanoeuvre us and outgun us. Try to fight her and we will not win. She is a better pilot than you, Tarrant, even on her worst days. And there she is.”

I glanced up at the main viewer, where a finned vessel had come into view. One of the old Mark Ten pursuit ships, more than a match for the _Libra_ any day. Not the sort of thing the Federation just gives away; like us, Jenna must have stolen it.

Avon’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “We’ve going to have to outsmart her. Aura, do we have escape capsules aboard?”

“Yes, Avon.”

“Is it possible to relay a message from the ship to the capsule’s communicator?”

“That function has never been requested, Avon,” said Aura.

“Just do it!" said he with vehemence.”

“Yes, Avon.”

“Dayna, locate the escape capsules. On my mark, release one. Do you understand?”

She nodded and hurried away. 

“Tarrant, have the plasma cannon on standby. When I say, target her forward thrusters.” Avon activated the communicator. “Jenna, you can have me but not the ship. I’ll come aboard. We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing left to say,” Jenna replied.

“All the same, I’m coming. Shoot me down or let me say my piece, it’s up to you.” He switched to the internal circuit. “All right, Dayna, release the capsule.”

A small silver pod cut the darkness between the ships with a fiery tail. 

“Aura, relay this message,” Avon commanded. “Well, Jenna, if you’re going to do it, I’m here. Or will you hear what I have to say?”

“She’s powering up weapons again,” I whispered. “What’s she waiting for?”

“She won’t fire,” Avon said.

The capsule drew ever nearer to the pursuit ship, still moving, still intact.

“You’re right,” I said in disbelief. “She’s lowering her weapons.”

“Sentiment,” said Avon, smiling faintly. “To bring the capsule aboard, she will need to lower the force wall. When she does, Tarrant, target all systems.”

He gave Avon an uncertain look. “At this range, the damage will be critical.”

“I know.”

He had that look in his eye that spoke of his apparent lack of concern. On the viewscreen, the capsule was almost in range.

“Avon,” I said. “It’s Jenna. Don’t do this.”

He didn’t respond. He stood, staring, waiting, immobile as a shaft of ice.

“Avon!” I hissed.

I wasn’t getting through to him.

“Force wall is down,” said Tarrant.

Avon let out a snarl of triumph. “Aura, arm the plasma cannon!” Then to my surprise and relief, his expression softened slightly. “Cripple her ship, Tarrant. She might be able to help us.”

A plasma bolt ran true. Jenna had seen it coming, but too late to stop the impact that tore the starboard engines to shreds and left her ship adrift and without power. Damaged, but alive. I breathed again.

I felt the weight of Avon’s stare and glanced up at him. “Is that all right with you, Vila?” he said.

I nodded. “It’s Jenna. You wouldn’t have done it anyway.”

Avon pursed his lips, his attention on the broken ship on the viewscreen. “Wouldn’t I?” He let the thought linger before next he spoke. “Bring her aboard, Tarrant. Let’s see what she has to say for herself.”


	5. Collision

**Chapter Four**

 

**The _Libra_ , Sector Nine**

**The Present**

 

**Avon**

 

Vila filled a glass with a pale purple liquid and handed it to Jenna. She took it, acknowledged the gesture with a nod, said nothing.

He gave me that look again. ‘This is all the thanks I get’, it said. What did he expect? If you threaten to fire on someone, you can’t complain if they consider returning the favour. Jenna’s mistake had been hesitating. Mine had been in thinking her presence could add value to our beleaguered crew.

So far, I had yet to see the benefit. Tarrant had objected, more out of habit, I suspected. A danger, he had said, to me and the rest of them. Considering her recent actions, I couldn’t blame him. It was unfortunate that his first meetings with previous members of the _Liberator_ had all been unfavourable. He was getting the impression that none of us were trustworthy at all.

As for Jenna, she had emerged from the wreck of her ship with blood on her forehead and a resentful attitude, which had persisted even when Dayna had offered to attend to her injuries. They had left her alone after that, leaving Vila and me to conduct our interrogation in private in one of the communal rooms. Soft seats, muted lighting and Vila’s need to ply everyone with alcohol made it feel less like a confrontation than a social occasion.

Not that our ‘guest’ was enjoying herself. Jenna sipped her drink, registered her distaste and set it aside. Probably a very good vintage. Still, there’s no accounting for taste.

Vila looked appalled. “Oh, come on, Jenna, that’s good stuff, that is.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the drink, Vila. It’s the company.” Jenna looked straight up at me, held my gaze with a defiant air. I knew what was coming next. “Are you going to kill me now or after I’ve answered your questions?”

“That depends on you.”

“I’d heard you hadn’t much time for explanations these days,” she retorted. “Shoot first, pick over the pieces later. Or is your pilot so inept that he couldn’t manage a clean kill?”

I sensed a wave of nervousness emanating from Vila’s direction.

“Tarrant is a first-rate pilot,” I said. “If it had been left up to me...”

“You always were a bastard, Avon.”

I smiled at that. I couldn’t help myself. Let her think what she liked.

“How did you find us?” I asked.

She stuck out her chin, regarded me with an expression of smug superiority. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would. There’s a bounty on my head, but that doesn’t extend to the others.”

“Why do you think I was prepared to let them go?”

“Why were you prepared to let me talk?”

It stopped her, gave her something to think about. As hard as Jenna was trying to be, there was something else, something she didn’t want to have to tell me. Well, I was going to get it out of her, one way or another.

“You were recognised on Restless,” she admitted finally. “At least, Vila was.”

I glanced over at him and he quailed. The one thing I had asked him to do, to maintain his disguise and he couldn’t manage that. His vanity could have been the death of us. It probably will, one day.

“Who knows?” I demanded.

“Anyone who intercepts hyperspace sub-beams. The Federation are on their way. Restless is being evacuated as we speak.”

All except Professor Forrid. The old man with nowhere to go. How long would he wait, I wondered. Until the troopers were hammering at his door? Even that might be too late, if the Federation thought he had information. Revive him, torture him, get him to tell them that we were on our way to Grandeer. All they had to do then was wait. Another good reason to avoid the place.

For now, we had problems of our own. Without detectors, they could be coming up on us right now.

“If you can track us, so can they.” I activated the communicator. “Tarrant, have Aura set a random course pattern.” He started to protest. “Do it now! The Federation knows where we are.”

When I turned back, Jenna was smiling with satisfaction. “Say goodbye to another bolt hole.”

There was nothing wrong with her memory, I’d give her that.

I took a seat opposite. “Restless was convenient. We needed information.”

“You were there a long time.” She took up the glass, took another drink, relaxed a little. “I heard you needed treatment.”

Vila took this as an invitation to join in. “Ah, well, we were in a massacre, you see.” He sat himself down beside me on the couch, realised he was fractionally too close and shifted a few feet away. “Tarrant wasn’t too good and we weren’t expecting Avon to make it. I was all right, though.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Vila.” Her gaze switched to me. “What happened?”

“You must have heard,” I replied.

“I know what they are saying. But then I don’t believe everything the Federation tells me. It’s the only reason you’re still alive, Avon.” She paused, looked away, couldn’t meet my eye. “Why did you kill him?”

I drew a deep breath. Vila fidgeted, but wisely said nothing.

“There was a misunderstanding. Blake... was being his usual evasive self.”

“Then why didn’t you make allowances?”

“I had been conditioned by previous information from a trusted source.”

“Tarrant,” Vila added unhelpfully.

Since he had said it, there was no point contradicting him. “Yes, Tarrant. Our ship crashed on Gauda Prime. Blake found Tarrant before we did and told him enough to make him believe that he had betrayed us to the Federation.”

Jenna’s expression was pensive. “That must have hurt.”

I didn’t answer immediately. “When I asked him, he didn’t give me a straight answer.”

“So you shot him.”

Her tone had changed again. The anger was back. And then as quickly fading to sadness.

“At the end.” She swallowed hard. “Did he... did he suffer?”

The sort of question sentimental people always ask, as if it matters. There’s a standard response, of course. Unfortunately, Vila is ignorant of such things.

“No, he was dead by the time he hit the floor,” he spoke up before I could. “Mind you, he did linger a bit after he was shot the first time. The third one got him though.”

“Thanks for being honest.” Jenna’s eyes were shining with tears, which she blinked away. “Blake was ill, you know.”

“Forrid mentioned something about it,” I replied.

“He had started acting irrationally. That’s probably why he didn’t answer you.”

I let the thought lie for a moment. “Is that why you left him?”

She lost some of that self-assurance. “The blockade came up sooner than any of us expected. Blake was on Gauda Prime and I was trying to get back. I couldn’t make it through.”

“He thought you were dead.”

“So did I. The Federation picked me up. They didn’t know who I was, just another smuggler. I was due to be sent for processing when the news about Blake’s death came through. In the confusion, I managed to escape.”

“In a stolen pursuit ship.”

She shrugged. “You take what you can get. You haven’t done so badly yourself.” She glanced about the communal room. “Not bad for a Pleasure Hopper. I didn’t realise plasma cannons were fitted as standard.”

“They aren’t,” said Vila. “This one is special. The ship’s computer is nice too.”

Jenna smiled knowingly at him. “I’m sure she is.” She paused to consider the half-filled glass in her hand, giving it more attention than it deserved. “Where are you headed, Avon?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Sector Seven.” She set the glass aside with a heavy sigh. “You’re looking for Grandeer, aren’t you?”

“Servalan implied that all was not as it seemed on Gauda Prime.”

“And now Avon thinks Blake might be alive,” said Vila, being unhelpful yet again. “He isn’t, is he? I mean they can’t really bring people back from the dead?”

“Yes, they can,” said Jenna. “Keep the brain alive long enough to repair the wounds with basic surgery and the patient can be revived.”

“But that wouldn’t work on Blake, surely,” said Vila. 

I was going to have to speak to him about this need to fill silences with empty words.

“It works better if administered before death, but yes, it can be effective if given to the patient as soon as possible after death too.”

“You appear to be well-informed,” I said before Vila could embarrass himself any further.

“We gathered as much information as we could. Blake was relentless.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“The location of Grandeer.”

She had me there. As easy as that. And there I was thinking I had years of searching ahead.

“Where?”

“The third moon of Verisan. They disguised the facility as part of the food processing plant.”

I got up. The urge to get there as fast as possible was irresistible. But wait, I told myself. No use rushing headlong into trouble. No use to either of us.

“Can you trust this information?”

“It came from a former Base Commander, a man called Gault. Blake interrogated him on Carusican Major.”

I felt my instincts telling me that something wasn’t right. “What was Gault doing on Carusican Major?”

“Being held by the rebels.” A slight smile touched her lips. “They let Blake speak to him first, out of courtesy.”

“And he believed him.”

It was an interrogation at which I should have liked to have been present. I tried to envisage how much pressure had been needed to extract that information. The degree tended to indicate the quality. Blake had probably shot him, just enough to injure without killing the man. Then what? A promise of a quick death to escape the lingering imprisonment that awaited him. Knowing Blake, once he had got what he had wanted, he had left him alive for the rebels. Typical, always thinking of other people.

Trusting them too, in the certainty that Gault would never be freed. Reason enough not to keep his word. Having kept mine meant I had problems of my own. I should have checked that generator myself. That’s what comes of relying on other people. 

“You don’t have to go to Grandeer, Avon,” Jenna said suddenly, cutting through my thoughts.

“Why not?”

“Because Grandeer has been taken. Avalon is already there.”

“How did she find out?” I demanded.

“Because I told her.” She looked uncomfortable. “I betrayed Blake. And I did it for you.”

* * * * * * *  
_Oh, Jenna, whatever do you mean?! Find out in the next chapter!_


	6. Ceasefire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Come on, be honest - who thought I'd forgotten about this story? Who'd given up all hopes of ever seeing an update, let alone the end? Well, let me put everyone's mind at rest - I've never yet not finished a story. I might take my time, I might have to cogitate on possible plot twists, I might be the slowest writer ever - but this story has an end... so let's do it._

**Chapter Five**

 

**_The Libra_ , Sector Nine**  
**The Present**

 

**Jenna**

 

Avon is a bastard.

Always has been, always will be. 

Like most bastards, he maintained a high opinion of himself. Unlike most, he had the talent to back it up. You didn’t have to like him to respect him for that.

I did, once. A healthy respect, I called it. What you save for someone who’s told you exactly what he thinks of you and intends to do about it. _Next on my list_ , he’d said once. Well, Blake was gone. Didn’t that make it my turn?

Given half a chance, I was sure he would. I had given him that chance and he hadn’t taken it. 

I wasn’t flattering myself that it was out of some misplaced sense of sentiment. Nor did I believe Vila had anything to do with it. He seemed on edge, poised on the end of couch as if he was ready to spring up at a moment’s notice. I was starting to wish he would leave us alone. The constant fidgeting was getting on my nerves.

And then there was Avon. 

Looking at him now, sitting opposite me in this tawdry pastel pleasure ship, his features grey and haggard, he was unrecognisable. Over the years, when I let myself think of him, it was set against the sleek interior and light panels of the _Liberator_. Or posing at his console, throwing the crumbs of the knowledge to the ignorant masses with whom he was forced to associate. I knew that Avon – or I thought I had. A known quantity, despite his attempts to prove the enigma.

This Avon, the Avon who had killed Blake, a single dark point in a sea of pink drapes and white leather and green rugs, did not fit with my memory. He looked out of place, in every sense of the word, so incongruous that your eyes were drawn to him, however much you tried to look away. 

I was not having the same effect on him. His gaze was averted, his dull eyes fixed on some distant spot, a million light years away from these gaudy surroundings. What was he seeing there, I wondered, if anything?

Whatever it was, I was getting nothing from him. The words were right, the effort behind them lacking, like a ringing vessel, all noise and no substance. When he did condescend to meet my gaze, I tried not to let it show how unsettling I found it staring into eyes devoid of a soul, like looking at the visual reference point of a machine, knowing that behind the glass screen, data and images were being processed but not much else.

Even now, after I’d told him what I done, the apathy remained. 

“Avon, are you listening?” I said.

“Yes,” he replied, the word escaping from him on a long, broken breath. “You claimed you betrayed Blake for me.” The fleeting look he gave me suggested I had wasted my time. “What do you want, a round of applause?”

“You aren’t interested?”

“I don’t believe you. The dispensation of largesse was never one of your virtues, Jenna. Whatever you did was for yourself. And Blake.”

I couldn’t disagree. I had had my own self-interests at heart too. But that had been only part of it.

“You’re wrong.” Telling him that gave me more satisfaction than I could say. The great Kerr Avon, wrong again, fallible, just like the rest of us. How galling that realisation must have been. “All those years ago, I agreed with you. No one should have to go to Grandeer.”

There, I’d said it again. Mistakes on every side and look where it had got us. A few bedraggled survivors and the resistance in shreds. Things needed to be made right. I owed Blake that much.

“You had no qualms about sending Avalon there,” Avon noted.

True. Then again, I didn’t have the same allegiance to Avalon. 

“She had the resources. From what I heard, you didn’t. With the Tachyon Funnel, you should have been formidable. What happened?”

A soft huff from Avon, a hard look from Vila. There was a story there, I decided. There was distance too, both physically, in Vila’s chosen position at the other end of the couch, as far away from Avon as he could manage, and in every other respect. I would press Vila for it later.

“We lost it, didn’t we, Avon,” said Vila. 

Not a question. A brittle, accusing statement.

“Something like that,” he muttered in reply.

He was staring again, straight ahead, answering me out of necessity without having to acknowledge my presence. Vila at least had the decency to look at me when he was talking. 

“If Avalon was given the location of Grandeer,” Avon went on, “why did no one tell Blake?”

“Had all gone to plan, it wouldn’t have been necessary,” I replied. “According to him, the records held in the centre about the procedures carried out on prisoners and their families should have caused a shockwave which would have rocked the Federation to its core. It never happened.”

“Avalon failed.”

“Or the records were never there.”

Avon acknowledged this with his silence. He had retreated again, focusing his attention on his left hand. From the way he was flexing his fingers, something was playing on his mind, and not just what I was telling him.

Something was troubling me too. Someone who had not been mentioned.

“Avon, where’s Orac?” I asked.

“We gave him to Servalan,” said Vila. He must have seen my expression for he was quick to continue. “We had to. It was him or Avon.”

“That I can believe,” I replied. “You squandered our only advantage to save your own life.”

“Liability, more like,” Vila retorted.

“Vila,” Avon said flatly, a lacklustre warning without much to back it up.

He was having none of it. “You don’t know the half of it, Jenna. What that evil pile of bits and pieces has done. If it wasn’t for Orac, we wouldn’t have gone to Gauda Prime.”

“So that’s how you knew where to find Blake.” 

That had been another of my questions. Blake had been certain Avon would find him. Why he had settled on that planet above all the others he had never said. I had suspected Orac had been involved somehow. I still didn’t know why it had taken so long.

“Yes,” Avon admitted. “I didn’t expect the Federation.”

“Nor did we,” I countered. “It took us all by surprise when they showed up. I hoped my failure to return would have warned Blake to be careful. It seems I was wrong.”

I knew as soon as the words had left my lips that something I had said had been revealing. The change came over Avon in a perceptible wave. For good or evil, it was always hard to tell with him. Except now. Something had awoken in him, something I recognised from years ago, that old burning resentment that had never been entirely extinguished.

I was waiting for him to say something, but it was Vila who spoke.

“He knew,” he uttered. “Blake knew. But that means―”

“We’re leaving,” said Avon decisively, rising abruptly. A few steps took him to the intercom. “Tarrant, turn us around. Get us out of this sector.”

“What about Blake?” I called after him.

He paused on his way to the door and looked back. “What about him?”

“You’re going to leave him there?”

“Why not? He got what he wanted.”

That was it, the end of the discussion as far as Avon was concerned. It wasn’t for me. I ran after him, managed to get in front of him and forced him to stop.

“Avon, you can’t do it,” I said.

His eyes were narrowed, cold and hard. He was already far away, as unreachable as ever.

“If we go to Grandeer, who will come looking for _us_?”

“No one, probably,” I was forced to admit.

“Then that is the last place we should be going.”

“What about me?”

“Well now.” He took his time, savouring the moment. A little rise in the corner of his mouth betrayed his carefully cultivated air of detachment. “That’s up to you. We can leave you on the next habitable planet and you can take your chances. Or you can step outside now, Jenna. The decision is yours.”

I held his stare. “I want you to take me to Grandeer.”

Avon’s eyes glittered under the harsh lighting of the corridor. “It’s a trap.”

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“Blake is not there.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Whether Avalon has taken it or not, it does not matter. It is enough that the Federation knows the rebels are aware of its location. They will have moved their base of operations. Whoever is waiting for us on Grandeer, it will not be Blake. You saw to that.”

He pushed past me. I wasn’t about to let him go so easily.

“I didn’t put him there.”

“He made his choice.”

“At least let me try to contact Avalon. If not for Blake, then for ourselves. We will never be safe while the Federation survives. If Grandeer can destroy it, we have to try.”

My memory had not deceived me. The Avon I remembered, the pragmatist, who could be persuaded by an appeal to reason where all others failed, relented.

“Very well,” he said. “You may contact Avalon.”

“A truce, then?”

He inclined his head. “Temporarily. After that, it’s up to you.”

“Oh, killing you will be a pleasure, believe me.”

“Don’t miss.”

The words were sibilant, not quite a threat, not quite indifferent either. If I didn’t know him better, I would have said he was counting on that prospect. I could have been wrong. If the rumours were true, he had tried to shoot his way out of an armed mob of Federation thugs. Death by trooper, they called it, hardly original, but still preferable to being taken alive.

It took the appearance of a young woman in the background to break our deadlock. Slender, close-cropped hair, both wary and concerned in equal measure, not for me, but for Avon. 

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

The tension subsided to tolerable levels. “Yes, Dayna,” he replied. “Just resolving a few differences. Aren’t we, Jenna?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“Now, stop it, you two,” Vila interjected, pushing himself between us. “Let’s not argue. I know this isn’t the _Liberator_ , but it’ll be just like the old days, you know, the old gang.”

“No, it won’t,” I said coldly, taking a step back.

Of all the people I thought might kill Blake, Avon had never been one of them. Perhaps because he always said he was going to do it. I’ve known a few like that, channelling their resentment into words rather than action. Then again, Avon always did keep his word. I might have liked him better had he been a hypocrite. At least Blake might still have been alive.

And Vila, trying to pretend the events of the past few years had never happened. There were no old days, just bitter memories.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the others,” said Avon.

I tried to follow, only for Vila to catch my arm. “Don’t push him, Jenna. He’s not himself, hasn’t been for some time.”

I pulled away and turned to go. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Orac set us up.”

I stopped and looked back. 

“It’s true.” Vila nodded furiously. “He showed Avon and Blake a vision of their future. Gauda Prime, Jenna, he showed them Gauda Prime. Only it wasn’t the future,” he added. “Blake made it happen.”

“So did Avon.”

“He thought I was going to kill Blake.”

“You? Why?”

“Because Orac told him.”

“It doesn’t change anything, Vila.”

I said it, but didn’t mean it. It changed _everything_. All that time, and Blake had said nothing to me. The pair of them, knowing, a secret they never shared with the rest of us. Where might we all be now if they had? The knowledge took root in the pit of my stomach and started to burn.

Gan. Cally. The _Liberator_. Blake. What a waste. What a senseless _damned_ waste.

In the cramped forward cabin, I was met with simmering hostility. The younger woman I had already seen was standing in company with another, perhaps a few years older than the first, her long blonde hair caught back on the top of her head and a weapon at hand attached to a belt about her waist. Seated at the controls, a lanky, curly-haired man eyed me with suspicion. I could hardly blame them. Whatever I thought of Avon, these people had some loyalty to him. Threatening to shoot him down had not won me any friends.

Avon’s introduction was perfunctory. After that, it was Tarrant who took the initiative. He rose from the pilot’s seat and in the close confines fairly towered over me. If it was meant to be intimidating, it failed. It’s been tried too many times before.

“So you’re Jenna.” He looked me up and down. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I can’t say the same about you,” I responded.

He barely faltered. “Rumour has it you were dead.”

“Rumour has it you lost the _Liberator_.”

That did hit the mark. A good pilot always regrets the loss of a superior ship. 

“Not on my watch,” he said bluntly, casting an accusing look at Avon. “She’s not joining us?”

“No,” Avon returned. “Jenna needs to contact Avalon. Then she is leaving.”

“She doesn’t need us for that,” said Tarrant. He looked me square in the eye. “Why haven’t you contacted her already?”

“From a stolen Federation ship? Credit the resistance with some common sense.”

“As long as you haven’t got an ulterior motive.”

A breathy laugh escaped me. Tarrant had been around Avon for too long. He was starting to sound like him.

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” I said.

“Good, because I don’t.” He held my gaze long enough to make his point before retreating back to his seat. “Avon, why have we changed course?”

“A precaution.” He pushed himself off the wall and addressed the computer. “Aura, you will accept the commands of Jenna Stannis until further notice.” He glanced at me. “Make it quick.”

I gave the computer the instructions for Avalon’s communications cipher. A surly female voice finally responded that the channel was open. I sent my message and waited. As a long minute passed, I felt certain I had my answer. I tried again and met with the same response.

“It’s over,” I said heavily. “The resistance must have been crushed.”

“Or Avalon has decided not to respond,” said Avon thoughtfully.

“Perhaps she doesn’t trust you either,” Tarrant added.

“Incoming message,” the computer suddenly announced.

“Is the signal genuine?” Avon demanded.

“Full-range analysis confirms the signal meets the criteria as specified by _Stannis_.”

I did not miss the emphasis placed on my name. The distrust was universal.

“Very well,” said Avon. “Be careful what you say, Jenna. There is a price on our heads.” He stepped out of the cabin, out of the sight of the main viewscreen. “Go ahead.”

The screen filled with an image of the rebel leader. A little older, a little wiser, but essentially the same as I remembered. She spoke before I could.

“Jenna, I’ve been hoping you would make contact. Is Avon with you?”

The mood in the cabin altered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Soolin’s hand steal to her weapon.

“Avon is dead,” I said. “He died on Gauda Prime.”

“We mean him no harm,” Avalon continued. “If he is with you, tell him we need him.”

Tarrant half turned in his chair and glanced up at me.

“He is dead, Avalon,” I said again. “What happened on Grandeer?”

An impatient sigh escaped her. “We are in command. But, Jenna, we need Avon.”

“Alive or dead?” Vila spoke up warily.

“That was a mistake. Things have changed since then. We understand now.” Avalon’s insistence seemed genuine. “We need Avon. We need him to bring Blake back.”


End file.
